We've Already Said Goodbye
by 96 Hubbles
Summary: A short tag to "Demons".


_Disclaimer: Not mine. (You know, in case you thought otherwise.)_

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**We****'****ve Already Said Goodbye**

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She saw him through the window, hand wavering uncertainly over the button, even before she heard the doorbell ring.

She hesitated. Unsubs she could face, but him? Now? She wanted to cry.

He rang again. "Alex?"

"There in a minute," she called out with fake cheerfulness. She wiped her dusty hands on her pants, swiped a tear from her eye, and forced a smile on her face as she opened the front door. "Spencer."

Another crack sounded from her heart as she looked at him standing there, worried expression on his face, unable to think of anything to say to her. Then he pulled something out of the pocket of one of his ever-present cardigans and handed it to her.

Her badge and I.D.

"I didn't know if you had forgotten them…" he trailed off. They both knew he hadn't thought that for a minute.

"Come in, Spencer." He followed her in and she gestured for him to sit on the couch.

He didn't though. "I just came to, you know, return those. I should go."

"No. Don't."

Reid bit his lip, looking more unsure of himself than she had seen him in a long time. Likely not since the first time he'd guest-lectured for her linguistics class at Georgetown.

"I never meant to do it like… I mean, I should have told you last night when I dropped you off. I should have been honest and said goodbye properly, but I couldn't. Not then. It was just…"

"You're leaving."

There was the tiniest of sobs - she couldn't help it. She nodded shakily. "I'm sorry if I was a coward." She took a deep breath and pulled herself together, before letting out a rueful laugh. "God, Scott was right: for an expert in linguistics, I'm a terrible communicator!"

She saw him look away and could tell something was still bothering him. She had a pretty good idea of what it was. "Hey, hey, look at me," she said, and risked cupping his cheek with her hand. "It's not your fault. Yes, what happened to you struck a nerve, but all it did was make me see what I'd been trying to avoid for a long time."

"What was that?"

"Do you remember that case last year in Detroit? Philip Connor?"

"The anger-retaliatory sadist who was kidnapping married couples?"*

"Yes. Do you remember what you told me before we went to speak to Connor's mother?"

He thought back, and then his face cleared though his eyes remained saddened, even a little wistful. "I told you that there's always work, and there'll always be work. That what's rare is finding someone who makes us happy."

She smiled. "You did. And I listened, even though I didn't take your advice then. I also listened to Rossi the other day when he told me about how he came home one day to find his wife had packed his bags and left them outside for him." She hugged herself, suddenly cold. "I don't know… when I saw you lying there and it brought back all of those memories of Ethan, I think it simply made me more receptive to what had been building up for months. I was finally in a state where I could realize that, as much as I love this job, and as much as I love you and all the rest of the team, _I want James_. He's the most important thing in my life and I want nothing more than to build my future with him."

The wide, grateful smile that lit up across Spencer's face had her wondering yet again how this spectacular young man didn't have women slugging it out on his doorstep over him. "I was really hoping that was the reason," he said.

"It is, Spencer."

"I'm still sad to see you go, though."

_God, those eyes, _she thought as she stepped forward and hugged him - the first time she ever had, and something just under her rib cage clenched at the idea that it might be the last as well. _He could have the world on a platter if only he knew how much people would do to avoid that heart-breaking look from coming into those eyes._

"I know," she said, letting him go and fussing at his shirt where she'd rumpled it. "And I truly am sorry."

"Don't be. You should be with James, and I'm happy that you will be."

"Thank you, Spencer."

"Can I ask you one thing, though?"

"Of course. Anything."

"Did… did I always remind you of Ethan?"

She shook her head. "No. It wasn't like that. I cared - and still care - about you because of the man _you_ are. I never thought of you as a child, or as some sort of substitute for Ethan. It was just that one moment, because I was panicked and because I couldn't get you to open your eyes, and…" she shrugged helplessly, unable to be any clearer.

But it was enough. He smiled back at her. "Thank you," he said. "I couldn't help but worry about it all last night. I hated the idea that I'd been bringing back sad memories for you all this time."

"Oh, Spencer, _no_. Don't ever think that. I've loved every minute - well, nearly every minute - of the last two years!"

He chuckled. "Sorry. I suppose nearly getting killed three times in one night isn't really conducive to clear thinking."

"No, I wouldn't think so," she said with a laugh of her own. "You should avoid it if at all possible from now on."

An awkwardness fell between them. The two simply stood there, knowing that in all the important ways they'd already said goodbye, but reluctant to let go. Finally, it was Reid who ended it, surprising her by wrapping her in a gangly embrace.

"Goodbye, Alex," he said, his voice hoarse.

She did her best to rapidly blink away the tears suddenly swimming in her eyes. "Goodbye, Spencer," she whispered back, her own voice untrustworthy.

It was all more painful and stumbling than the night before, and there was oh so much more she wanted to tell him, but maybe this had been necessary; for each to hear the actual word "goodbye". Or maybe not. Life is messy. Sometimes, especially when things are held so tightly together, that final breaking apart can't help but be jagged and rough.

With her goodbye, he gave her one last smile, stepped away and wished her good luck, then turned and quickly went out the door.

She sadly watched him go, and then closed it behind him.

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* From season eight episode "#6"

_I almost didn't write this. I loved "Demons" (though I am extremely sad to see Blake go), and from a story-telling perspective, I thought the ending was well done. However, I couldn't help but wonder if, thinking of the characters as real people, Reid would have needed a little more. Tacking on this tag to such a fine episode feels pointless, and even awkward to me (kind of like the way the last installment of "Lord of the Rings" seemed to have about five different points where it should have ended), but it wouldn't go away. Take it or leave it as you please. _


End file.
